#gorgon!reader

Ominis was sure he was going mad. In fact, he was positive— some point between the end of his fourth year and the beginning of his fifth, he had gone absolutely batty. That was the only logical conclusion to the fact that he was hearing voices at all hours of the day. 

It started the day the new fifth year won in a duel against his best friend, Sebastian. The Defense Against the Dark Arts class was moving at the same pace it always did: introduction to the new spell, practice on a small object, practice on a larger, vaguely person shaped object, and then finally a duel between each pair of students to prove their mastery. This day, though, took a different turn than what the young blond was expecting. Ever since starting at Hogwarts, Sebastian Sallow was Ominis’ dueling partner; there was never any question about it. It became such a habit that no one dared approach the pair once Professor Hecat announced the beginnings of the school sanctioned battles— you would never see one Slytherin without the other. So, when Hecat decided to pair the new fifth year with his best friend, well, it could be seen quite plainly that Ominis was not happy about the matter. 

As the duelists took their positions across from each other, the blond haired boy leaned against the nearest wall, a distinct look of annoyance turning down the corners of his lips and narrowing his eyebrows into a straight line. Most people would consider the look on his face a pout— not that anyone would ever dare at mentioning this to the boy. Ominis Gaunt did not pout, and he certainly did not scoff under his breath at the sound of his friend joking around with the new girl. What a preposterous idea. He wasn’t jealous, don’t be absurd. 

Though, it was nice hearing Sebastian get knocked down a peg by someone who had never held a wand in her life up until that point. 

Once the class was over, all Ominis wanted to do was slump himself into the Undercroft and take a well deserved nap. His head was pounding, and the near constant whispers of his classmates about the new girl were driving him up the wall. He couldn’t help but make snarky remarks in his head, quietly laughing to himself at the ridiculous questions his classmates were mumbling.

“Why do you think she wears that head scarf? I wonder what’s under there.” 

Hair, probably. 

“Did you hear her accent? Where do you think she’s from? Certainly not around here!”

Ten points to Ravenclaw for stating the obvious.

“Did you see how she was looking at Sallow? She just got here and already thinks she can take the most attractive boy in our year. The nerve!” 

Sebastian has the emotional range of a teaspoon, but best of luck!

“How could you even tell where she was looking? I couldn’t see a thing through those glasses of hers! Why is she wearing shaders inside?” 

Bold style choice, but alright. Not that he could really judge, of course. 

“Do you think she’s blind like Gaunt? Great, another person I have to make sure I don’t trip over.” 

That statement got his attention. Could she be blind like him? He didn’t hear any echolocation charm on her wand, nor did he sense a seeing eye animal or a cane around her. A very small part of him warmed slightly at the idea that he wasn’t alone in his struggles anymore. He craned his head more to the side, trying to catch more of the gossip as everyone began to file out of the classroom.

“No, she can’t be blind. It looks like she can get around just fine on her own— no charm blinking on her wand or anything. Still quite weird, though.” 

Ominis’ shoulders sank minutely at the news, the warmth in his chest freezing over once again. He sighed to himself before pushing away from the wall, deciding to just let his body carry him to the Undercroft on autopilot while he stewed in his thoughts. Sebastian was off talking to the new girl, so he would likely not be joining him until well after his next round of Crossed Wands later that day. Normally he would join the boy, cheering him on from the sidelines with the rest of his fawning fangirl club, and he was about to turn in the direction of the clock tower when the brunette’s voice broke through the haze. 

“Suppose I could interest you in some unsanctioned fun?” 

Well, if his new best friend was going to be there, then he wouldn’t miss Ominis’ presence all that much.

Just as the blond had resigned himself to an afternoon of solitude, another voice came through the crowded musings of his classmates. 

“Gods, I’m starving.” 

A completely mundane statement, one that had likely been uttered by half of the class as they left, but something about the voice drew him in. It was low in tone, like they were trying to hide their voice instead of projecting it to their friends, and had a slight hiss to it just under the words like the person was speaking through a mouthful of fangs. Ominis paused in his steps just outside the doorway, his ear turned towards the classroom as he tried to find the voice again. All he found was silence and the tiny ticks of professor Hecat’s dark magic detectors. 

Shaking his head, he leaned away from the door and made his way down the stairs, his mind puzzling through what just happened. He must have been imagining it, he thought to himself. The voice hardly sounded human, let alone familiar. Must have just been a trick of his mind, he had slept terribly the night before so it was logical he was just tired. Rounding the corner towards his secret alcove, Ominis stepped through the clockwork door to the Undercroft and began to climb down the winding staircase, hopeful that a bit more sleep would do him good. 

Fortunately, he had a lovely nap on the chaise lounge he conjured. Rather unfortunately though, the voice persisted. Morning, noon, and night he heard that incessant hissing tone in his ears, each day getting louder and more bold with what it was saying. First it was small things, things that most people would think to themselves throughout a normal day. 

“Where’s the bathroom in this place?” “My head itches.” “What I would give to take a nap right about now.” 

Normal things. But then, the statements started to get a bit…odd. 

“There’s something under my scale!” “He was rude, I want to bite him.” “I can hear a mouse somewhere. Can I eat it? Please?”

While Ominis was tired of hearing the random, grating voice slither through his ears at a constant rate, he was happy to report that he no longer thought he was going mad. The voice belonged to a snake— that much he was sure of. But, where was the snake? Did it know he could hear it? How was it somehow always in his vicinity? 

That was the question that was currently keeping him up at night. 

Everything culminated one faithful day when he next had Defense Against the Dark Arts. Today was lecture, and much like the rest of his classmates, he bemoaned having to sit and listen to professor Hecat go on and on about some unknown entity or creature that he could never encounter for the rest of his days. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a good teacher, far from it! But, much like any professor in the castle, she was not immune to the dreaded monotonous lecture voice. 

Upon entering the classroom, the first thing Ominis heard was Hecat’s voice speaking in hushed tones to someone. He would never admit it outloud, but the boy was dreadfully nosy. Honing his ears in the direction of the whispering, he caught on to her tone first— caring, soft, gentle, words that normally wouldn’t be found within one hundred feet of the professor— then the tail end of her words. 

“—if you are uncomfortable with today’s lesson, please know that you can leave at any time.” 

An equally soft voice replied in turn, a hint of uncomfort lacing their words. “Thank you, professor. I appreciate the sentiment, but I will be fine. It is not the first time I have been a part of such a lecture.” 

Ominis stilled in his seat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention when he recognized the voice. It was the new girl again. Merlin, it seemed she had everyone wrapped around her little finger, even the formidable Dinah Hecat! 

It wasn’t that he had a problem with the new fifth year, in fact she had been quite nice to him when they met in the common room, it was just that all the rumors surrounding her made her sound a bit big for her britches. First she beat Sebastian in a duel, something no one has done since he started going to Crossed Wands and honing his talent, then she invites him to Hogsmeade with her and suddenly a troll is hellbent on clobbering up the street? Not to mention all the other things Ominis had heard about: taking out Ashwinder camps in her spare time? Flying all over the sodding Scottish Highlands and getting into all kinds of trouble against the Ranrok Loyalists? Sneaking into the restricted section with Sebastian and earning him another bloody detention, because what, she batted her eyelashes at him and he folded like a cheap suit? Who was this girl, and why did trouble follow at her heels like a pack of hellhounds? No, Ominis didn’t have a problem with her, he was suspicious of her, and the fact that the voice started soon after she got here certainly didn’t help. 

The blond sat back in his seat, arms crossed across his chest and a befuddled look clouding his expression as the professor took her spot at the front of the room, tapping her wand on the rickety old chalkboard and writing out the subject of the lecture for today. 

“Today, class, we will be discussing Gorgons, another creature traditionally deemed mythological but in fact walks among us magic folk unseen. Though, they very rarely make the journey across the sea to our backyard.” 

Ominis’ eyebrows narrowed more in confusion as he thought about Hecat’s words to the new girl. Why would she be uncomfortable with this lesson? What secret was she hiding that was related to Gorgons of all things? He tuned back into the lesson, hoping to answer some of his questions. 

Professor Hecat paced around the room as she talked, taking strides up and down the lengths of desks and weaving through her collections of artifacts from her time as an Unspeakable. 

“Gorgons, or ‘gorgos,’ meaning ‘fierce, terrible and grim’ in Greek, are inherently female creatures with snakes for hair and the ability to turn anyone who meets their gaze into stone. Many of you are likely familiar with the myth of Medusa, the only mortal Gorgon that was callously slayed by the Greecian hero, Perseus. But, there are two other Gorgons known in history: Stheno, the mighty or strong, and Euryale, the Far Springer.” 

The room was bathed in silence as Hecat paused in her speech, giving the class time to take notes on the creatures. Ominis sat still, his mind awash with possibilities for why the new girl would need to be excused from this lesson. Her accent was Greek, that was for sure. Could she have a history with Gorgons? That wouldn’t make sense, though. Many students have had run-ins with the creatures discussed in DADA, but they were never offered to skip that lesson. So, why was the new girl so special? 

A sharp, insistent sound shook the blond from his thought spiral, causing him to wince at the volume suddenly ricochetting in his ears. A terrible hiss filled the room, slithering throughout the encompassing space and echoing off the tall, vaulted cathedral ceiling. It was haunting, eerie, constant, like the creak of the floor in an abandoned house or a busted pipe in the middle of the night when you’re the only one home. A shiver ran up Ominis’ spine at the sound, trying desperately to block it out while also listening to those around him to see if they heard it too. He heard no whisperings, but with a quick flick of his wand, sparking the wood to life, he could see the silhouette of his classmates looking around like they were trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. Ominis relaxed slightly, relieved that he wasn’t the only one hearing the incessant hissing. 

His relaxed posture only lasted for a moment as a voice suddenly cut through all the noise, low and dangerous like a rattlesnake's tail in the tall grass. It was similar to the snake he had been hearing, but different somehow— richer, more human sounding. Ominis’ heart stilled in his chest when he recognized the cadence, knowing it intimately from all the times he spoke it while living at home. Parseltongue. 

“Be quiet. Everything is fine, no one is going to hurt us.” 

At once, the hissing stopped, shrouding the room in a blanket of silence once again. Dread began to curl its way around Ominis’ chest at the understanding of what that meant— what that could mean for the future of Hogwarts in general. 

Someone in the room was a parselmouth like him, and he would bet all of his galleons on it being the new girl. 

But, what did she mean by “no one is going to hurt us?” Who was “us?”

The professor continued her lecture, drowning the never ending list of questions permeating in his mind that seemed to grow longer by the second. 

“Gorgons are the children of Phorcys, a primordial sea god, and Ceto, a sea goddess, who happen to be brother and sister.” 

A snicker came from the back of the classroom, followed by the voice of none other than Andrew Larson, the class’ resident moonmind. “Purebloods know all about that!” 

Hecat leveled him with a glare, not an ounce of amusement present in her tone as she spoke. “Must you make that joke whenever we talk about Greek history? I dare say it wasn’t funny the first handful of times you’ve said it, Mister Larson.” 

Ominis could almost see the embarrassment on Larson’s face when he stuttered his reply. “Um, n-no, professor. I j-just meant—”

“We all know what you meant.” She silenced him quickly, her smirk present in her voice. “Now, back to what I was saying. Phorcys and Ceto had a large family together, including the Graeae, the trio of elderly sisters that share an eye, Echidna, a being of half-human, half-snake, Ladon, a fearsome dragon who was tasked with guarding the golden apples of the Hesperides, and Scylla, a woman with dog-headed loins. Because of Ceto’s reputation for giving birth to terrors, each larger and more colorful than the last, she became known as the “mother of sea-monsters.” Ominis could feel Hecat’s eyes linger on him for a moment, her speech stilling slightly as she took in his deeply puzzled expression. “Of course, among those children were also the Gorgons.” 

The aging professor continued, her steps ebbing and flowing around the classroom like a steady stream. “According to myth, Medusa did not begin life as a Gorgon. She was Ceto’s only mortal born child— human as any other babe. Some even say she may have been of magical nature, like all of you in this very room.” 

The blond slytherin heard Hecat’s steps falter for a moment, the soft swish of her hand running along a desk off to his right. He craned his ears in the direction, his wand picking up the movement as he tried to discern the student that the former Unspeakable was paying special attention to. The silhouette of a girl filled his mindseye, her form slumping down slightly in her desk as she tugged lightly on the scarf wrapped around her head. Ominis’ frown stretched deeper across his face at the realization that the professor was checking on the new girl, again. What was so special about her? Why was everyone so enraptured by her presence? She didn’t seem all that remarkable when in the school building at least. She was just mysterious. He was mysterious at first, but the fascination with him soon dwindled as his peers realized he was the same as everyone else. 

So, the slytherin pondered, why was she still the talk of the halls? 

Why was Hecat teaching this lesson?

Why was it important for a group of pubescent teenagers to know about something that existed across the ocean from them?

Ominis had more questions than answers, and each one confounded him more and more by the second.

“Medusa was a devout follower of Athena, the goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and war. One night, while praying to her goddess, she captured the attention of Athena’s brother, Poseidon. He appeared to her, intent on taking what he believed should be ‘his.’” Hecat paused, her stony gaze sweeping across the classroom as if challenging anyone to so much as breathe too loud. “He took her there, in the temple, leaving her on the floor as she sobbed and prayed to her goddess for forgiveness.” 

Ominis could cut the tension coating the air of the room like a thick, viscous fog with a knife. No one dared make a sound, enraptured by the words of their wise mentor.

“Some myths say that Athena took pity on the girl and transformed her into something that no man could ever gaze on again. Some say she punished her for leading a man into her sacred temple and letting him defile it. No one knows the true story except those who were there, and the old gods have long since left our realm for their own paradise on Olympus.” 

The apprehension screaming in every magical mind surrounding the dearly loved, and feared, elder was palpable in the tiny class space. 

“Now, some of you may be wondering why I teach this lesson.” As if reading his mind, Ominis felt Hecat level him with a stare that burned hotter than even the most blistering fire poker. “The answer, of course, is that no one knows what happened to the child of Medusa and Poseidon.”

The young Gaunt felt all the air get sucked from his lungs as if a dementor escaped from Azkaban just to find him specifically. A child of a god and a witch? It was unheard of— it was disastrous. Their magic would be unstoppable; nothing in their world would ever match the power of a child brimming with that much otherworldly energy. Whether they used their powers for good or evil, or even some mix of the two, they would be legendary all the same. At that moment, a thought came to Ominis. Would they also be part Gorgon? If Medusa was transformed while with child, who's to say that the babe would not share the same affliction. 

As suddenly as a strike of lightning, or a downpour in April, Ominis Gaunt answered the question that had been on his mind since the start of term.

  The new girl was a Gorgon. 

How had he not realized before? The snakes that were always around when she was— how her head and eyes were always covered— how no one knew where she hailed from and had no hint other than the fact that her accent was vaguely Greecian? It was right in front of his blind eyes from the beginning; he was just too much of a jealous fool to see it. 

Just then the bell chimed across the campus, signaling the impending class change. Professor Hecat’s voice broke through the bustle of his peers standing and gathering their things in preparation for their trek to their next lesson. 

“We will continue our discussion on mythos and magic next week. Please remember to study for the upcoming OWLs! They are written and practical, so be sure to practice the physical spells as well as memorize the theory!” 

Ominis scrambled to gather his things, determined to catch the new girl before she disappeared into the crowd. Dodging around a loitering Sebastian— the brunette’s hand raised as if gearing to make some idiotic, yet somehow still brilliant, point— he all but sprinted into the congested hallway. His wand waved in front of him as he scanned each person he passed, his ears tuned to any noise that sounded vaguely serpentine in the hopes that her reptilian tresses would sound out as they always did this close to lunch time. Alas, they were as silent as a dead rodent in a viper pit. 

Just then, the young boy caught sight of the girl, her silhouette moving ferociously  among the masses as if she would rather be anywhere but there. Underneath all his confusion, morbid curiosity, and pulsating anger at how she has been endangering, and possibly enchanting, his best friend, Ominis felt a pang of pity. He didn’t blame her one bit for wanting to leave as quickly as possible— not at all. He knew all too well how it felt to have all eyes burning through his skin at every turn, even if no one else seemed to figure out her secret other than him. He couldn’t let her escape, though; he needed answers, he needed closure. Halting in his tracks, he racked his mind for what he could do to get her attention. She wouldn’t hear him call her name in the ruckus around them, nor could he keep up with her brusk pace. There was really only one option to choose, and as much as he hated to do it, snakes had an incredible sense of hearing, or rather, in their case, an excellent sense for vibrations. 

His voice flowed from his lips in a strong hiss, the air seeming to break just for the words to slither their way to their target like a bush adder in a pile of leaves. “I know what you are.” 

Ominis could hear her pulse quicken as she stilled. Everything else in the cramped space fell away, leaving just the two slytherin’s, each one with their own morose history that has been broadcasted for all the world to hear. Two peas in a pod— two sides to the same coin— two scales on the same snake. 

Her “pets” were startlingly silent as her hung head raised from its slumped position against her chest, her sigh heaving her shoulders into proper posture— a constrictor poised to strangle. 

The boy felt her words before he heard them— the air stilling around him like a world born anew. 

“I suppose it’s my turn to explain things, then.”

AN:

Shes baaaaaacccckkkkkkk :)

***

Tonight you and Peter abandoned your work in favor for a movie night with his roommate Ned. You liked Ned, he was pretty awesome. Him and Peter were friends since high school but you fit in with them easily.

You were half way through the second movie when Ned began to snore. You and Peter laughed at him. You grabbed some popcorn and threw it but you didn’t have the best aim therefore missing Ned’s mouth.

“I should get home,” You muttered, stretching your limbs. You miss Peter’s face falling.

“O-or you could stay,” Peter suggested, giving you an awkward smile.

“And sleep where?” You ask him. “I’m not sleeping on the floor and I don’t think Ned’s sharing his bed,” You and Peter look at him sprawled across the larger mattress.

“We could uh... We could share my bed,” His voice squeaks a bit forcing him to clear his throat. You smile at him. You almost say yes but you’re hesitant. 

You look down at your hand and twirl the black band wrapped around your middle finger. The band is spelled to hide your true appearance. While wearing it the world sees you with y/s/t skin, y/h/c hair, and y/e/c eyes. Without it you had pale blue skin, silver irises, and a half dozen snakes for hair.

You’ve slept with your ring on before but if you wear it for too long then you begin to get uncomfortable. You wanted to spend more time with Peter but you were already pushing it with the illusion.

“Rain check?” You offer, looking back at him. Your heart clenches at the disappointed look he’s trying to hide. “I want too,” You promise, reaching for his hand. A small smile comes onto his lips. “Just not tonight,” Peter nods slowly. “I’ll see you in class,” You risk kissing his cheek before slipping out of his room.

From that night on the two of you slowly grew closer. You were already spending a lot of time together because of the project but things started going in a different direction. You sat closer, brushed hands more often and stole glances.

Well, the two of you were already stealing glances but now neither of you really looked away when the other got caught. 

You began to flirt more openly and take him on unofficial dates. Whenever he had to abruptly cancel plans you didn’t get upset. You knew that he was Spiderman (we’ll pretend that his identity is still a secret) and understood that sometimes duty came first.

What you weren’t expecting was for his alter ego to follow you home one night. 

You had a late night in the library. Peter - Spiderman - had noticed you walking home and decided to keep an eye on you. All he wanted was to make sure you got home safely.

When you got to your apartment building and up to your home, Peter couldn’t help but to spy from the rooftop of the adjacent building. You kept a lot of things private. You rarely talked about your childhood and never spoke of your parents. He knew he shouldn’t spy but he wanted to know more about you.

You entered your home and kicked your shoes off. You walked to the window to close the curtains but before you drew them closed you took your ring off. Peter watched the illusion wash away to show your true form.

He got a few seconds to look at you before your thick curtains closed. He stood on the rooftop for a while. He was shocked at what he had seen. Slowly, everything was making sense but he was still curious as to why you had hid this from him.

He meant to confront you about it the next day but every time he tried too he chickened out. You noticed that he was acting weird - weirder than normal. You didn’t know what was bothering him but knew he would talk when he wanted too. Only he never confided in you what was bothering him.

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked, barging into his dorm room without invitation. Peter looked startled, silently wondering how he didn’t sense you. “Because if I did I’d rather you tell me so we can fix it instead of you pushing me away,” You close the door behind you making it clear you weren’t leaving.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Peter says, shifting on the bed. You lift your hands up and drop them back down to your sides.

“Then why are you being so distant?” 

Peter looked at his hands nervously. You waited for him to say something. After a few seconds you sighed and collapsed in the desk chair. Peter glances at you. It takes you a moment to realize what he was looking at.

“Peter?” You whisper, sitting up. You fiddle with your band causing his eyes to snap to yours. Your heartrate begins to increase.

He couldn’t know about the ring. How could he? He didn’t know where you lived and you never showed him. He doesn’t know who your parents are, so how could he know?

The way he started avoiding eye contact and the fact that he had been so distant made you think that maybe he had figured it out. Once you assumed that he knew your secret, your heart dropped to your stomach.

He knew what you looked like and now he wanted nothing to do with you. You knew this would happen. Why would he want you? You were monstrous to look at and your eyes were a killer.

“I should go,” You muttered, standing up. You practically ran for the door when hands gripped your hips and spun you around. You gasped when your back slammed into the wall.

“Don’t go,” Peter whispers, keeping you trapped. Your heart continued to hammer in your chest. You couldn’t tell if you were more nervous about Peter knowing your secret or having him so close to you.

“How’d you find out?” You ask. Peter becomes a little sheepish.

“I may have followed you home,” Peter admits. You raise your eyebrows at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks trying to put the focus back on you.

“Why’d you follow me home?” You counter. Peter takes a step back. You almost pout.

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” Peter rubs the back of his neck.

“And when I did, why’d you stick around?”

“You don’t tell me much about yourself,” Peter mutters. “I just... I wanted to learn about you,” 

“But you got more than you bargained for, aye?” You run your fingers through your hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, again.

“Why would I?” You laugh, pacing. “I’m a freak, a monster!” You snap. “I’m quite literally the monster parents tell their children,” You glare at him but your anger isn’t to him.

You had heard stories of yourself being spread around Asgard. Stories that traveled to Earth. You were the new nightmare, the new scary story to tell around a campfire. You’re the monster with blue skin and deadly eyes, the grandson of Medusa. Apparently you were murderous and ruthless even though you’ve never hurt a person in your life.

“I wear this ring to fit in,” You hold up your hand to display the ring. “I didn’t tell you because I like you Peter. I really fucking like you,”

“I like you too,” Peter whispers. You send him a small smile but you shake your head.

“You like this form, you like that I help with school work, but you don’t even know who I am,” You say.

“I do,” Peter insists.

“You don’t,”

“Yes, I do,” Peter snips. You tilt your head and wait for him to explain. “You’re the son of Loki and L/w/n. You grew up in Asgard but you’re going to college here. You’re my science partner but I’m hoping you’ll be more,”

“How could you want more with someone like me?” You ask him. “You could have anyone you want. You’re handsome, smart, and fucking Spiderman. You should be with someone who doesn’t have to hide,”

“You don’t have to hide,” Peter shakes his head. “Not with me,” You look at him. It’s obvious you don’t believe him. “Take the ring off,” Peter says. You tense. “Take it off, Y/n,” You look at the ring. “Please, I want to see you,”

You give in. Slowly, you take off your ring. The transformation is slow but painless. The room is silent other than the sudden hissing of your snakes. The can feel your anxiety and try to comfort you while hissing at Peter. You mentally scold them and they settle down.

“You’re the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” Peter breathes. You glance at him. His compliment catches the attention of your snakes. You mentally laugh at how easily they’re won over. “Err- Person... You’re the uh- you’re the coolest person I’ve ever seen,” Peter corrects, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Cooler than Star Wars?” His eyes snap to you. You snort at the conflict on his face. “You don’t have to answer that,” You assure him. He looks physically relieved. “So, this is what you get,” You shrug.

“I want you,” Peter blurts. He instantly blushes, so do you. “I mean.. I want to take you out.. on-on a date. I want to take you on a date... Please,” You smile broadly. 

“Where do you want to go?” You ask.

“Let’s stay here,” Peter says, walking past you to close the curtains to his window hoping to make you more comfortable. “I don’t want you putting the ring back on,”

“Ok,” You whisper, nodding your head. “Order some pizza?” You suggest. Peter grins and nods.

“Maybe this time you’ll spend the night?” Peter hopes. “Just to sleep! We don’t have to do anything else. Unless you want too, I won’t mind but we uh we-we don’t have too,”

“Peter, relax,” You step up to him. Your blue hands caress his cheeks. Peter continues to smile at you. “Order the pizza and I’ll spend the night,” You tell him. Peter breathes in deeply and slowly releases it.

Her snakes were tawny, each coil it seemed a different shade of red that glistened in the afternoon sun. The cheeks he gazed upon, as one of her snakes scented her skin, were round and dimpled just slightly as she smiled at her sisters. When she leaned back to float belly up in the dark water his heart stopped beating.

Hvitserk was gifted with a sight no mortal man had ever lived to see. This beautiful Gorgon in all her monstrosity had a body fit to worship. Her breasts were pendulous and dipped to either side of her plump chest as she drifted. His gaze followed the lapping water down to her fleshy stomach, larger than her sisters, but perfect in his mind for caressing and kissing. He imagines his hands would grasp her ample hips as he drove into her sweet mound over and over until she allowed his release.

Her sisters, while not as captivating to this particular mortal, are also beautiful. One has white snakes with marbled textures, each snake with its own pattern. She is tall and muscular, with a body that could rival Hercules himself. The third has dark black snakes that are svelte to match their mistress. She is lithe and graceful and to Hvitserk it seems as if she could float on the wind like a bird if she desired.

As the mortal observes the goddess monsters a twig snaps in the distance, and all three sisters jolt out of the water. Their snakes turn to the sound and a furious hissing rises through the glade. In the cover of the sound, Hvitserk sneaks quietly away, glad that some other idiot will be the sister’s prey.

He returns to the training ground in no hurry to resume the physical tasks demanded of him. His mind is in the clouds with dreams of wooing the Gorgon.

++++++++++++

For months Hvitserk trains harder than ever. He runs his body into the ground so he will be worthy of the love of a goddess. But he doesn’t just fight harder, he starts to write and plot. He knows he is not as tactically minded as his brother Ivar, who has already left Philoctetes’ training camp to be the warlord for a far away king. Hvitserk instead plots of love. Of ways to talk to his beautiful snake charmer. What he would say if she dared give him a moment of her time.

He’s not an idiot. He knows he could never look into her eyes, but he could whisper sweet words into her ears. Show her his devotion in the beasts he’d slay for her. The flowers he could gather in the wilds that would never rival her radiance. The wars he would wage to spend even a second in her presence. 

His writing is poetry. The Odyssey of her flesh. The Iliad of his pining. He tries to write every inch of his memories on paper. The way the fresh grass in the glade smelled as he beheld her curves. How his knees grew stained with dark dirt as he knelt behind the bush. The exact cadence of hissing as he unwillingly crept away.

One day he is furiously scribbling in his journal, more ideas of what to say to his gorgeous goddess, when he is found by Philoctetes.

“Kid. You’ve got to go.”

“But Phil! You said I wasn’t ready.”

“You’re not! Your head is in the clouds, and you’re trying to become the next Homer instead of running the course day in and day out like you’re supposed to.”

Hvitserk hangs his head. He knows he’s still strong and the fiercest of fighters, but his heart has been stolen by a mysterious woman in the river of the dead.

“Kid. You’ve got to get her out of your system. Even if you die trying.” Philoctetes stomps a hoof, upset at the thought of losing his toughest trainee to the Gorgons. Again.

“Their home is on the black hill that overhangs the mouth of the underworld. Go back to where you saw them. Head south until you see the mouth, then head west until you find their sculpture garden. You’ll be on your own from there. No one has ever gotten farther than the garden.”

Philoctetes shakes his head and clasps Hvitserk on the shoulder. Before he leaves he instructs Hvitserk, “Take anything you want from the storeroom, kid. You’re gonna need it.”

Hvitserk opens the double doors to the storeroom and stares at all the weapons lining the walls and displayed in the center. He immediately goes for the axe, his preferred weapon. He grabs new leather armor, and the shiniest shield he can see. He hopes it will mirror the Aegis in power, and keep him safe if he needs it.

The last armor he finds is a helmet. Just too big for Hvitserk, but it slips over his eyes with a quick jerk of his head, so it will be perfect. Before he leaves on his journey, Hvitserk sees a small shimmer out of the corner of his eye.

There tucked away in the corner of the room is a dusty jewelry box inlaid with golden details. He opens the top and inside is a perfectly preserved set of gold jewelry, laid out as if it is expecting his touch. They look perfect for his Gorgon. Even the earrings have a depiction of Eros, the god of love, whose arrow pierced Hvitserk’s heart that day in the glade. He slips the box into his pack and begins his journey.

Hvitserk retraces his steps to the glade, and is unsurprised to find it empty once again. The dark waters of the Styx seem to mock him in their nothingness. He huffs at the burbling brook and looks up to the sun, and heads south where the rivers flow unnaturally toward the underworld. Hvitserk makes sure to stay as far from the water as he can, lest he happen upon Charon, or other dangerous myths.

As he walks and walks the sun sets and darkness falls on the forest where Hvitserk is forced to stop and camp at the base of a tall almond tree. He wraps his cloak around himself, holding his pack in his hands, and closes his eyes. He wakes rested and hopeful when the sun crests over the horizon; he knows the gods are with him on his journey.

The closer he gets to the underworld the colder the wind seems to be. It is pushing him slowly closer and closer to the chthonian river. As Hvitserk breaks through the brush the wind gives a mighty howl, and he must dig his feet into the soft earth, thighs straining to keep from being pulled into the dank, dark hole into which the river flows. It smells of death and decay, and Hvitserk is almost overwhelmed with memories of battles from long ago, and the screams of enemies and friends alike. He digs his heels in even further and pivots back, struggling to thrust his body behind the closest tree. As soon as his muscled back is pressed tightly to the bark the wind stops and the screaming ceases, and it is as if the forest was never his nightmare.

Our brave hero stays close to the tree, but peers his head around gently. Through the leaves he sees the nebulous maw of the Kingdom of Hades. The jagged stalactites mimic teeth as they fall from the rocky ceiling, and Styx is the lengthy tongue carrying souls led by Charon’s hand to be devoured at the foot of the King.

It takes every effort to look away from the gruesome gullet, but Hvitserk wrenches away his gaze to look beyond. To the top of the hill, where it seems almost pleasant. While dark and black on the inside, the hill itself is covered in mossy grasses and wildflowers that surround the home of the Gorgons.

The Oikos is a substantial size, and looks down the side of the hill, not facing the river as you might expect. Hvitserk sees dark spots spreading out from the inner garden to spill over the side of the hill and down into the valley. As Hvitserk creeps around the forest, avoiding the abyss, he realizes the dark spots are statues. There are some hundred men, animals, some women, and a few seem to be dotted among the trees that frame the Gorgons’ property. It is the garden Philoctetes warned him about.

Over the gentle breeze Hvitserk hears voices, and crouches low in the forest underbrush, testing the air to make sure he is downwind. He can hear the sisters laughing together, but can only pick up a word or a gods’ name here and there. As they get a little closer he can see the sisters are carrying shields, swords, and the one with black snakes has a bow and quiver. She’s the one who swats his love on the butt with one of the arrows, and she and her copper snakes roar, “Sten,” in faux anger and make to chase after the Gorgon with black snakes, but she is halfway across the garden before Hvitserk’s chosen can take another step.

Hvitserk is then witness to a sparring match between the three beautiful Gorgons. Sten uses her bow to loose arrows between her sisters, making sure they can never get complacent. Occasionally she will yell a word before releasing an arrow directly over their head, and Hvitserk comes to learn it is their names, Y/N and Marmor.

Marmor is the most violent fighter of the three. Her attacks carry the heavy weight of all her musculature, and she is confident that her strokes will cleave her enemy in twain.

Y/N is a true shield maiden. Hvitserk watches her use the shield as her main weapon and main defence. She blocks and perries with it, and in one glorious instance is able to thrust the whole shield against Marmor and pushes her back, almost to the ground. 

The fight finishes just as the sun touches the horizon, and the three Gorgons go back inside to the tune of Marmor’s seemingly endless opinions on fighting techniques. In his mind Hvitserk thinks he could help them. He saw the weak points, and where sharp foes may take advantage. He thinks he could even show Marmor a few of the tricks Philoctetes taught him.

In the last light of the sun Hvitserk gets as far away as he can from the statue garden and starts a small fire to roast a rabbit. In the dying embers, and on a full belly, he writes what he can of the fight. The details of how strong his love is. How she is able to take a hit and give one back.

The muses grab hold of Hvitserk’s ink loaded reed and he takes the next piece of papyrus from his stack and begins to draw. What emerges is a crude sketch of Y/N holding her shield in offense, with her feet firmly planted to the ground. Her face is fierce and glaring at her target, and it is clear that the artist finds this Gorgon beautiful in her monstrosity and bloodlust.

On the last stroke a powerful wind whips through the forest and takes the paper. Hvitserk curses the Anemoi and tries to run after the drawing, but he is not faster than the wind gods and falls behind. He is not willing to stray too far from his camp, for fear that he will lose it in the dark black of the forest at night. Our hero trudges back, and slumps to the ground, disappointed that he will not be able to keep the evidence of his devotion. He falls asleep huddled under his cloak hoping tomorrow will give him better luck.

What Hvitserk doesn’t see is his paper’s journey. It floats gently in the hand of Zephyrus who carries it to where it sticks in the jaws of a goose that is opening its beak wide to squawk at one of the mistresses of the house. Its fearsome feathers are stuck, made of stone, forever in the poise of rage.

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If you want to read other stuff I write here’s my masterlist